The afternoon sun
shimmered against the horizon, heavy and ominous. Sunglasses cut through most
of the glare, as sweat slid down the bridge of my nose. The heat of the day
coupled with the lack of breeze had the marketplace stinking of rotten food.

Heartbeat elevated, stomach clenched, eyes narrowed—I was
watchful. I kept reminding myself the monarch would only be in Afghanistan for
less than forty-eight hours.

A lot could go wrong in forty-eight hours.

A car idling near the escort caught my attention. We were
waiting for the monarch to finish his meeting with the newly elected president.
I didn't like the position of the car.